


Oakmoss and Elderflower

by Poohzhunny



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 05:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17277791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poohzhunny/pseuds/Poohzhunny
Summary: My Inquisitor’s trek to find her way after Haven is destroyed. Written for a Weekly Writing prompt for r/dragonage on Reddit on a moment where a character reached the utter depths of despair.





	Oakmoss and Elderflower

The fire pit was cold. No traces of which way they might have gone left in the snow. The fierce storm made it impossible to tell how long ago they’d left either. Lilim had found this spot through sheer luck with what little energy she had left after surviving both an ancient Tevinter darkspawn mage and his pet archdemon. Oh and an avalanche. Now, the frigid temperatures seeped through her clothing and chilled her armour. She wouldn’t last long. She had to find the Haven refugees before the mountain claimed her.

She shivered as she looked around at the pass. She could only guess, but she felt they likely held to the trees to keep some of the wind down. Her foot stomped on something under the thick powder. She cleared down to see; anything dropped by the caravan might help her survive... food, or a blanket. A gasp escaped her lips and she looked away. One of the refugees, wounded in the battle by the look of it, had fallen behind as everyone departed and been left in the snow. Not even a cloak to help warm her.

She took a step forward, pulled her other leg free of the deep snow, then took another. Her metal boot plates were filled with ice and snow clumps. Her toes had gone from cold to a low numbness she couldn’t shake. Her head lowered to keep the wind from directly whipping her face, she took another step, her shallow breath coming in ragged shivers.

She didn’t know how long she’d been trudging up into the mountains. The snow blowing into her eyes her had hypnotized her somewhat and she’d lost track. She hoped she hadn’t veered too far from her intended direction but with the trees gone long ago, and no sun, moon or stars in sight, she had no means to orient herself. Something had drawn her attention up ahead to break her reverie, however. Her leg reached up and out of the snow, burying back down a few inches forward. Her extremities felt like icicles; heavy lumps that felt alien to her body. Her lips could barely move enough for her to swallow. If this is what it means to be her ‘Herald’, Andraste could go fuck herself. Her _and_ the Maker.

It was another fire pit. Just a few more steps... One. The storm hadn’t abated; the snow now above her knees was making it near impossible to carry on. Two. A groan escaped her throat as her toes hit the boulders she was trying to get around. Her lungs ached with every intake. Three. She used the stone to stabilize herself though her fingers were well past being able to hold onto anything. Four. She fell forward behind the boulders, hidden from the harshness of the wind. She whimpered at the pain that thrummed through her feet and hands as she hit the ground.

Her left hand, the one with that cursed mark, extended to the ashes left in the pit. She stirred them and coals smouldered upon being exposed to the air. “Embers... still warm.” Tears welled in her eyes but froze upon contact with her cheeks. She had to get up. They wouldn’t have gone far in this forsaken weather, not with so many people. She clenched her jaw, using her arms to lean forward, off her feet and onto her knees. If she could get one foot underneath her, she might be able to stand.

She looked ahead. Two mountain ridges created a narrow corridor that wound a way up andforward. The snow might not be as deep within the shelter. Using her hips, she managed to get her left foot up and steady. She wobbled until her right foot followed suit, rising at the waist, a hand against the boulder for balance for a few moments before wrapping it back around herself to stick it under her armpit.

One foot lifted and made its way onward. Then the other. The snow levelled below her knees now. The sound of her breathing helped her keep time between steps. One, two, three breaths, foot forward. Her whole body shivered in uncontrollable spasms now. She had nothing left. Haven was destroyed, the Inquisition in tatters, and they faced something far worse than she could have imagined. If she even survived the mountains, what could she do to stop the creature? One... two... three breaths. One foot forward.

How many had been lost during the attack? How many fell to the red Templars and that dragon? She could still feel the heat of its diseased breath on the back of her neck, hear the wails of despair all around, the cries for help that went unanswered. She remembered the look of cold, dead cruelty in the darkspawn’s eyes; the sharp tugs of its clawed fingers wrapped around her wrist as he hoisted her up in the air to look her in the eye. She’d never been so afraid in her life.

She tried to lift her leg up out of the snow one more time but her muscles balked. She wobbled on her feet for several moments, screaming inwardly for just one more. Her throat burned. Her thoughts congealed; her eyesight blurred.

“There! It’s her!” A voice.

“Thank the Maker!”

She slumped to her knees. Her eyes blinked but wouldn’t focus. Arms, warm and strong, scooped her up, freeing her legs from the snow. Her head leaned into the chest where a heartbeat reminded her to hang on. Darkness was coming, but she would hang on, hang on to that rhythm. The faint scent of oakmoss and elderflower brought a smile to her frigid lips.


End file.
